Chapter One
The Gift Giving Blues
Thus it came to be the week of gift-giving. The amicable Dr. Watson and I turned our attention to the more traditional method of holiday shopping and surfed the web. I have always been troubled by this phrase. How is it possible to surf a web? The very nature of a web is to prevent movement. To hold its prey in place until the woolly spider can swoop down and incapacitate the unfortunate creature that happened upon the sticky, geometric barrier.
But as usual, I digress.
Watson looked up from his book. "Have you found anything for my brother yet, Bix?"
I sighed. Ryecroft is a difficult dog to buy for. He's a high-ranking official with the SK9 Department. The mutt can have anything he wishes. Why Watson insists on buying a gift for him is beyond me.
"No, Watson. I haven't. Couldn't we skip giving him a gift this year?"
"I suppose that is possible if you don't mind waking up in a shoebox being shipped to the Island of Misfit Pets. I hear there are lots of farms in need of mousers. Ryecroft would gladly arrange for you to be transferred to one of those."
"Yes, of course. Here's an idea. How about one of those humorous dog sweaters that say something pithy like 'I'd rather be a 'insert dog breed here.' How does that sound?"
"Ryecroft has such a delicate sense of humor. I say a pound of bacon snacks and be done with it."
"Excellent idea."
Watson looked up from his book. "Come to think of it, his doctor did tell him it was time to ease back on fatty foods."
"How about a box of chewable teeth cleaners."
"He'll feel insulted."
"A squeaky toy?"
"He's not a puppy, Bix."
"A rubber donut that plays a note two octaves higher than a middle C."
"Splendid idea, Bix! Ryecroft is a talented musician!"
Before I could click on the shopping cart icon to complete the sale, our doorbell rang. This of course sent Watson into a frenzy and he ran around the library barking like mad dog.
"There's someone at the door! Who's at the door? Someone is at the door! We have to open the door! I'll need to use the bathroom as soon as you open the door!"
I left the cursor pulsing over the shopping cart. Someone had to answer the door.


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